


too quiet

by fourshoesfrank



Series: autistic criminal minds [5]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Autistic David Rossi, Autistic Spencer Reid, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Im not tagging major character death bc Maeve isnt a major character, LMAO the whiplash from those tags. have fun guys, Pizza, autism absolutely affects the way you grieve, nonverbal epsiode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25663948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourshoesfrank/pseuds/fourshoesfrank
Summary: idk man sometimes u just need pizza and a pseudo father figure to help u grieveor, actual summary: Rossi helps Spencer process Maeve’s death.
Relationships: Maeve Donovan/Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid & David Rossi
Series: autistic criminal minds [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1529216
Comments: 23
Kudos: 155





	too quiet

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so the “knock twice if you’re conscious” line really isn’t that big of a deal but i LOVE it. access intimacy is so amazing. so i thought about that line a little too much and spawned this. enjoy!

Four days after Maeve’s death, Rossi shows up at Reid’s apartment unannounced, bearing a hot pizza box as an offering. By now, he’s heard about Garcia leaving the kid gifts outside his door, so he figured hey, some greasy food might tempt Reid out of hiding, right? Couldn’t hurt to try.

The threshold is bereft of gifts when Rossi arrives. That’s both a blessing and a curse, because although it will make the pizza box that more obvious, it will also... make the pizza box that much more obvious. Rossi never intended it to be a big deal, that’s why he got a small pie, one that could easily be covered by a flower arrangement from Garcia or something, but now... Seems like it’ll be a big deal whether he intended it that way or not.

The lack of other gifts also means that anybody could walk by and see a box of fresh pizza sitting outside Reid’s apartment, just waiting to be stolen. And because a case is imminent (aren’t they always? Especially when the team is comprised in some way?) Rossi knows that he might now be able to come back later and deliver the by-then sad, cold pizza. He obviously has to knock on the door to make sure Reid gets it alright.

So he knocks, and he waits, and he knocks again when there’s no answer the first time. When there’s no answer the second time, Rossi presses his ear to the door to listen for any activity in the apartment. Maybe the kid’s just asleep.

No, not asleep. Rossi can definitely hear floorboards creaking slightly, probably from some side-to-side movement. Spencer does tend to shift his weight back and forth when he’s stressed, that’s probably what’s making the noise.

Rossi knocks again, although this third attempt is quieter than the other two. He doubts it will do anything, so why bother putting effort into it?

“Reid, it’s Rossi,” he says, after waiting another minute or so. ”Can you open up, please?”

Still nothing.

Rossi sighs quietly. “Reid, I’ve got hot pizza out here. It’s from that place you like, uh... Passerini’s. You’ll like it better if you eat it warm.” _Christ_ , he’s bad at this. When Reid still hasn’t opened the door, Rossi adds, “You don’t even have to talk to me. Just open the door and take it, please.”

Evidently, Reid’s been worried about talking, because as soon as that’s taken out of the equation, he cracks open the door. Rossi watches intently as the youngest member of the team slowly reveals himself, standing on the other side of the doorway. He makes no move to take the pizza box from Rossi, and Rossi makes no move to hand it over. Not yet.

Reid looks bad. That’s really the only way to say it. His hair looks unwashed, uncombed, and flat on one side, like he’s spent a lot of time laying down. There are dark circles under his eyes that contrast nicely with the bloodshot look of his eyes, and more than four days’ worth of stubble on his cheeks and chin. Personal hygiene took a backseat the past few days, Rossi thinks.

Reid reaches across the doorway for the pizza box, and Rossi relinquishes it after a moment. Now that he can see the younger agent, see the state that he’s in, he doesn’t want to just leave Reid like this.

It hits Rossi that Reid hasn’t opened his mouth at all. “Hope you’ve at least been brushing those pearly whites,” he says, trying to smile as he delivers the quip. It falls flat between them, fading away in the silence until Rossi isn’t sure he even said it out loud.

Finally, Reid shrugs. The pizza box moves with his shoulders as they go up, stay there for too long, and abruptly come back down. Like he has to manually program his body to emote.

“Y’know,” Rossi begins, lifting his hand with the index finger raised, “it’s been a while since I had anything from Passerini’s. You mind if I take a slice for myself, just to see if they’ve still got it?” _You mind if I break the inter-team profiling ban, just this once?_

Another stilted shrug answers that question. Rossi tries to smile again, and it must look more authentic this time because Reid blinks slowly at him, like a cat, and jerks his head towards the interior of his apartment like an invitation before turning around and walking back inside.

Rossi follows quietly, biting the inside of his mouth to prevent any stray comments about the mess from escaping. Because Spencer’s—he has to call him Spencer now, they’re standing in his _home_ —apartment is a real mess. Books are strewn everywhere, some open, some closed, some separated from their dust jackets. The curtains are drawn, and the floor around the light switch in the main room is covered in books, obstructing access. Spencer’s apartment probably hasn’t been fully illuminated since Maeve died.

Dave (because if Spencer is Spencer in this place, then Dave has to be Dave) stands in Spencer’s kitchen and watches the younger agent balance the pizza box on the edge of the sink and open it. Dave hears Spencer’s deep breath as he inhales the smell of the cooked sausage and black olives that decorate the pizza. He watches Spencer’s mouth twitch up at the corners, about as close to a genuine smile as a man in his situation can be expected to make.

“I remembered those toppings from the case in Wyoming,” Dave tells him, just to break the silence again. He really doesn’t like total silence. Especially when he can practically hear someone else’s emotions churning around in their head in the quiet.

Spencer gives no indication that he understood what Dave said, which is fine. Well, not entirely, but it’s no surprise. Dave knows that the kid has trouble with words sometimes, which is to be expected, since he’s autistic. Dave won’t push him to say anything. God knows he’d hate it if somebody tried that on him.

That doesn’t stop him from trying to fill the silence. “So, uh, how’re you holding up?” Dave asks. Spencer answers with a little shake of his head.

Dave sighs. “That bad?”

This time, he gets a nod in response.

“Well,” Dave says, “at least you’re vertical. I remember, after the ugliest of the divorces, I wasn’t upright for at least thirty-six hours after I signed the papers. I just... lay down in the hotel room and waited. Not sure what for.” He glances over at Spencer to make sure he has his attention, which seems to be the case. His dark-shadowed eyes look slightly more alert than they’ve been since he opened the door.

Spencer doesn’t say anything in response, but he curls one hand around an imaginary cylinder and mimes taking a sip. Dave snorts and nods.

“Yeah, there was a lot of alcohol involved. Well, on the first day, at least. I took a nap after a while and woke up too hungover to drink anything else.”

Spencer grimaces at that and clears his throat noisily, then flinches in reaction to the noise he just made. Dave thinks it would be funny if it wasn’t a reminder that Spencer is so out of it right now.

They eat the pizza standing up in the kitchen, no dishes in sight. It’s one of the greasiest pies Dave’s ever had, with runny globs of the stuff periodically falling off the sides of each slice. Dave cups his free hand underneath it as he eats. Spencer lets his grease fall on the floor.

Surprisingly, the kid finishes his half of the pie. It’s good that he’s got an appetite; Dave was dreading the possibility of a one-sided argument with the genius about the importance of remembering to eat.

The pizza has been consumed, which means that Dave no longer has an excuse to remain inside the apartment, but he doesn’t want to leave. He wishes he could do more to help. It’s painful, knowing that once the door shuts behind him the kid will be on his own again for a while.

He _has_ to break the silence again. Force of habit, or something. “You haven’t been crying,” Dave observes, looking at the obvious lack of redness or swelling around Spencer’s eyes. Sure, they’re bloodshot from lack of sleep and his eye bags are big enough to qualify as carry-ons, but there’s no signs that he’s actually been shedding tears. No redness around his nostrils from blowing or wiping any snot away, either. Dave isn’t sure whether that’s a good sign or not. Knowing Reid, it’s probably not.

Spencer nods his head once in agreement, a jerky, stilted motion like his shrugs were earlier. This is followed by another of those same shrugs.

“You should let it out,” Dave advises. “Don’t have to do it while I’m here, but you gotta let yourself cry once in a while.” He gives Spencer a gentle pat on the shoulder and turns to leave, to give him the privacy he needs. He’s almost to the door when he feels a tentative tap on his own shoulder, almost exactly the same place he just touched on Reid.

He turns back around and sees the younger man’s outstretched hand retreating, pulled back into that oversized sweater that Spencer has definitely slept in at least two times. Not two seconds later, that same hand darts up to wipe at the younger man’s watering eyes.

“Come here,” Dave says softly, and he pulls Spencer into a tight embrace that is reciprocated with a surprising intensity. The man’s entire body shakes from the intensity of his tears, but he doesn’t make a sound. More silence, except for the occasional sniffle. 

Too much silence. Who knows what kinds of things Spencer’s genius brain is churning out to fill it? The kid always overthinks when he’s upset, Dave knows this, and the fact that he isn’t privy to these thoughts so that he can help debunk them is less than ideal. 

The best defense is a good offense, right? Best to stop the thoughts before they can start. Dave squeezes Spencer reassuringly and does his best to fill the silence with friendly words, words that the kid’s eidetic memory will file away for later as a reminder that he’s not alone, he has the whole team and his mom and his chess partner on his side, he’s not becoming a burden by grieving, he’s allowed to cry, and so on and so on.   


And after a while, Spencer’s tears stop coming. He extracts himself from Dave’s embrace slowly, like he’s not sure he really wants to end it, but with enough purpose in his motions that Dave willingly lets go of him. He watches the kid wipe his eyes again, and watches as said eyes fixate themselves on the floor directly in front of him, and he thinks, _Time to go._ Because while the lack of eye contact itself isn’t a bad sign, the staring at the floor is. Reid tends to stare at different objects in a room depending on his mood; the floor is often the place his eyes turn to right before he feels the need to leave the room for a while.   


Dave isn’t going to make Spencer leave his own kitchen. He smiles, even though the kid won’t see it, and says, “Eventually, you’ll feel better. Take care of yourself in the meantime, okay?”

**Author's Note:**

> remember to include disabled people in your activism, and donate to disabled bipoc who need it! 
> 
> -
> 
> *rubs my greasy hands together like a fly about to vomit my digestive juices up* oh boy do i love FEEDBACK! kudos and comments are my LIFE i would LOVE to see what people think! ;))


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